In the Hands of Fate
by jinglebellsisawesome
Summary: When Arthur finally reaches Avalon, his spirit is sent back in time to the fateful day when he met Merlin. Armed with the knowledge of his maidservant's magic, he is going to change Camelot's future for the better. Or die trying. Fem!Merlin


When confronted with the possibility of his upcoming death, King Arthur never spared more than a thought on it. Of course, he had mused on it from time to time; pondered on the likelihood and calculated the possibility that this could be the end every time he stepped into battle, especially recently. But he had never actually reflected on it, not really. And when he had, he always envisioned death to greet him when the years stopped being kind to him, when he had long outgrown his life. He'd always hoped to have children of his own run around the castle, bringing love and joy to all they would come across. Gaius would have been exasperated, obviously, but behind his scowl there would be a warm fondness betraying his outward bemusement.

(And Merlin would make a wonderful mother, of that he couldn't deny.)

He had never imagined his death would be like this. This... _unfinished_. There was so much he had left to say, to do, to accomplish. He wasn't ready for death. Camelot still needed him. Arthur had no idea whether his most loyal and trustworthy knights had survived though he hoped to God they had – the Knights of the Round Table hadn't yet become legendary as he knew they would one day become. They were destined for great things.

Arthur just wished he would be around to see it.

"Arthur... Arthur..."

_Merlin_.

He tried to call her but her name caught in his throat as if he were drowning. Of all the people who could have been secret sorcerers he would never, not in a million years, have guessed that she would be one. He definitely could never have imagined that she was _the greatest sorceress to ever walk the Earth_. Even in death he was still having trouble adjusting to that declaration.

He thought on all he had been told about magic, all he'd believed about magic, all he'd said about magic to _Mer_lin, of all people, and marvelled at just how brilliant she was at contradicting all he had been taught and had known. For one horrible moment his mind strayed too far and had briefly contemplated whether she was as evil as Morgana – perhaps even more so if what Gaius told him was true – but one look in her eyes told him all there was to know about his maidservant. There was no way she was had or evil or any of the other connotations he would normally associate with magic. She was an anomaly; special.

_You're a riddle, Merlin._

And she was. She truly was.

(Not that he would ever tell her that, even if he was dying. He was the King of Camelot – he had certain standards to uphold.)

Although, he was definitely going to have words with her regarding this monumental divulgence on her character if this half-baked plan of hers was going to work. Again, he wasn't holding out much hope on his survival. His sister's – no, only Morgana for he refused to tie himself with this deluded, evil creature he had once considered to be a friend – timely intervention had cost them dearly and, judging by the desperation clouding Merlin's normally clear blue eyes, she knew it too. She was just refusing to acknowledge it. And he could understand that, were their positions reversed he wasn't sure what he would do.

It would seem magic could only do so much.

Arthur felt his body begin to halt, his will to live dwindling with every raspy breath he took. Merlin spared it not a thought and continued hauling him to some unknown destination that he knew he would never see.

"It's too late, too late," he whispered as he collapsed to the ground, bringing his maidservant down with him. Were this any other time and place and Arthur would have laughed at their roles being reversed – he, the clumsy idiot and she, desperately trying to be the hero of the hour. As it was, he didn't much feel like laughing. "All your magic, Merlin, can't save my life."

But she denied him. Just as she always had. "I can," she insisted though it was tinged with raw desperation. "I'm not going to lose you."

_Just hold me. Please._ He didn't realise he had spoken aloud until he felt her slowly, hesitantly, relax behind him, holding his dead weight as though it were some important thing. There was some lingering tension in her body that he could feel, as though she were still gearing up to carry him to safety.

She was too late. And even though he did not want to go merrily to his death, he knew he had to do this one last thing.

"There's something I want to say," he started, words short and sounding more and more like rough pants as his lungs betrayed him.

Merlin shook her head forcefully then, loose strands colliding with his head. He didn't mind. "You are not going to say goodbye."

"No. Merlin –"

He looked at her as though she were the most precious thing in the world to him – and she was. She always will be. His eyes memorised every detail of her face from her high cheekbones to her oversized ears and everything in between. She was perfect to him and he never got to say. So many wasted chances. So many wasted opportunities. Gone forever.

"No, Merlin," he began, faltering at the effort even breathing became. "Everything you've done. I know now. For me, for Camelot. For the kingdom you helped me build..."

He tried to brush the fallen tears from her war-torn cheeks but he couldn't lift his hand that far. All he could do was listen as she refuted his claim, that he could have done it all himself. He tried smiling though it believed it morphed into a grimace; he could never have done it without her. She made him better, complete. She was his other half, his _better_ side. And she would make a better ruler than he could ever have hoped to one day become.

"My ring," he rasped. It took him a while to elaborate even as her brows furrowed in confusion. It didn't help his concentration that she looked so beautiful with her nose scrunched up, just slightly; she always did that when she was trying to puzzle something out. Usually she was trying to find out how he could be so much of a prat all hours of the day, she would always claim.

Not this time, though.

"I want you to take it." He tried to inject some semblance of their usual banter though even he could hear how wrong it sounded to his ears, how sombre. "Don't ruin my kingdom while I'm gone. Not after all the trouble I've gone through."

Her startling blue eyes widened comically before narrowing as the full force of what he was imparting on her registered. "No," she angrily said. That was the opposite of what he intended. "You are not going to die."

He smiled. "Keep it until I return," he said. They both knew he would never return. She would make a wonderful Queen of Camelot, their people worshipped her. He would have given everything in that moment to see her ruling in his stead.

His expression blanked and became as serious and as honest as it ever had been. "I want to say, something, I've never said to you before –"

_I love you._

"Thank you."

Arthur was gone by the time her warm tears landed on his still form.


End file.
